Sleep Forever Not
by Inamioly
Summary: The Afternath of The Battle. Ron is suddenly worried he might lose Hermione forever.


**A/N: Wow, I'm trying my very first Harry Potter CANON-PAIRING. You must be proud of me **** or not, if you find this story horribly boring! The only thing I can say is, though I don't really like Ron, I'm glad I found the perfect pretext to try and write him: The "Kissing in the rain" Challenge!**

**Disclaimer: No, it's okay, I know Ron is not mine. You can have him, if you'd like…**

It had all happened on a Friday. When he thought about it, he could not help but think about how unbearablyironic it was. They had all known, from the very start of their journey through the youth they would unknowingly have taken away, that the end would be stained with an incredibly painful whirlwind of emotions. It would be tragic, agonizing, death filled. They had realized none of it was to be taken nonchalantly, and though they would never have dream of it, The Day After The End was proving to be very difficult to be taken seriously. Ron wanted to forget, to close his eyes and open them merely at the touch of a new world. He wanted to _sleep_**.**

A soulless laugh escaped his mouth without previous warning, and he was forced to face the reality he found so disturbingly ironic. All the fighters whose souls had been slaughtered had left the survivors on a Friday evening. The Battle had lasted a whole day, if not more; he had lost track of the time. And had they not been there, most of them would have been at school, appreciating the delights of a peaceful Friday evening, every breath soothed by the stimulating prospect of being allowed to oversleep.

Said Friday evening had been soundless, calm, even. They had all been at school, and they had all felt a rush of adrenaline being pumped into their hearts, and they had all gone to sleep. Irony. Pure, sheer, brilliant irony. Atrocious irony.

Ron had been one of those who had lacked commitment to the school work. He had very often overslept on Saturdays and Sundays, and he had never worried about whether or not he was going to sleep a dreamless sleep forever. And those who had fought beside him had never, either. It was not something one would think about spontaneously.

But they had. They were never going to wake up, and they had never dreamt they would not.

The second that thought occurred to him, it imprinted on him a sense of urgency he did not believe to be possible to ignore. Careful not to disturb anyone, he abandoned the Common Room as swiftly as his body allowed him. He tried hard to disregard the horrific landscape before his eyes. The bodies, the grieving families, the death of Hogwarts itself. _His grieving family_. Close to giving up, he finally located who he wanted to.

Hermione. Sleeping against a shattered wall, her back clearly hurt enough for her to be unconsciously rubbing it with her undamaged hand, a frown on her face.

He panicked. Heavy steps echoed in the Great Hall as he sprinted towards the sleeping girl, eyes watering. She winced almost imperceptibly. The enchanted sky was of a hollow grey, dark clouds intoxicating it. He hoped it would not rain. It had never rained in the Great Hall before, and he surely did not want the rain emphasizing his gloom mood.

"Hermione, Hermione. Please, please, wake up." Fiercely, but gently, shaking her body, he felt his lips trembling.

The girl stirred, and slowly, her eyes opened.

"Ron…" She mumbled and her hand pulled him towards her. He sat next to her, arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders. "Is… everything okay?" Hermione rested her head on his chest.

"I… I…" He inhaled deeply. "You woke up. I was afraid you were never going to. And…"

"But you saw me yesterday. I was fine, then. No need to worry, Ron…" She soothed him, her hand caressing his.

"No, Hermione, no. I need to worry." Ron softly murmured. "If I don't worry about you, if I stop worrying about whether or not you will wake up, then I know you never will. If I, who loves you more than anyone could ever love someone, don't worry about you, then who will? I need to know you will be here with me, and I need you to tell me you will not sleep forever like all those people who di-"

Hermione's head shot up, taking her body warmth with it. Ron shivered as she put a finger on his lips, her eyes begging him to be silent.

"You… you love me?"

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he grabbed her hand. "Of course I do. Why else would I have kissed you back yesterday?"

"I… I just thought you might have been bewildered by the situation and acted according to what your brain told you to do." She lowered her eyes in a sign of sadness.

"When have I ever listened to my brain, Hermione?" Ron smiled somewhat cheekily. "When have I ever _acknowledged_ I have a brain?"

She chuckled tenderly. "Point taken." She touched his shoulder and grinned as he objected in mock outrage. "But you do love me, right? For sure?"

There it was again. That uncertainty he could not bear to see mirrored in her eyes.

"How can I make you believe me?" He sighed quietly in frustration.

"Say it." She whispered.

Ron smiled. He gently pulled her chin up, brushed a curl off of her forehead, and kissed her fervently, tenderly, but unlike the day before, their kiss was not rushed.

"I love you." It started raining. The dark clouds exploded and torrents of water came crashing down, or they would have, had the sky not been an enchanted one. And as corny as it may sound, deep down in Ron's mind, he cherished the thought that his first kiss in the new, safe world had been with Hermione. A first-kiss in the rain. Those happened once in a lifetime.

**A/N: Okay, fluffy, I know, but the only thing I like about this pairing is the chemistry between them. They are very sweet together. So let me know what you think, yes? Reviews, plenty of reviews, I hope. Ahah, that's okay. Read, and review If You'd Like To.**


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